


Brood

by SolosOrca



Series: 14 Days of Pillar Pair [4]
Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Day 5, F1 AU, M/M, also a tiny crossover with yugioh, pillar weeks 2016, with little to no f1 in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9167737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolosOrca/pseuds/SolosOrca
Summary: It had only been 1 point. 1 point separating Ryoma from his dream.





	

**Author's Note:**

> F1 au lives! And this fic has no F1 in it lol, just Ryoma angsting and being dumb haha. It’s set in the off season before the season in which the story is set in, so it’s kinda a prologue or something. Mostly, it’s about how Ryoma met Tezuka, because that's what's important

The flight back to Japan was the worst 12 hours of Ryoma’s life. He spent every minute pretending to sleep and wallowing in his own misery, considering what ifs.

It had only been one point, One point separating him from the title he’d been dreaming of all his life.

Okay, maybe two points -he didn’t know who had the highest win count. Probably not himself knowing his luck this season.

Still, if he hadn’t knocked his wing off in Italy or had gotten in front of that Red Bull in Hungary or if his engine hadn’t blown up in Japan he’d be flying home to a party.

By the time plane landed, Ryoma was thoroughly miserable.

He’d only just managed to get through the post-race interviews without screaming. He had a feeling Atobe might sack him if he’d skipped them and losing his seat in the team would only make things worse.

Right now, he wanted to disappear.

His team had been nice about it, they’d been as gutted as he was, but their sympathetic glances and kind words had needled at him, it’d’ve been better if they’d yelled at him.

There wasn’t even a cat waiting for him in his apartment. Karupin was staying with a neighbour who Ryoma was sure had a crush on him. He didn’t think he could deal with her right now. Karupin was safe and happy at least.

He collapsed on the sofa and switched his phone back on. There was a mass of mixed calls and messages waiting for him. All asking him if he was okay.

He quite obviously wasn’t. He turned his phone off.

He just wanted to not be himself, just for a week. He couldn’t fave going back to the factory or seeing anyone from the paddock.

He’d let them all down. All the work and hours they’d put into his car and he’d come second.

It wasn’t as if this was even the first championship he;d lost, but the last two he’d been in the midfield without much hope of winning a race let alone a championship. This year though he’d had a competitive car and the season had been going so well! He’d lead the championship for so long and then the second half of the season had been one failure after another.

Too many DNFs, too many penalties. His lead had slipped through his fingers, like water, unable to be caught.

There had been so many missed opportunities….

* * *

He woke up sometime later, confused and disorientated. It took him a while to figure out he was in his apartment, not a hotel room. There wasn’t much difference between them.

When had he fallen asleep? His whole body ached after sleeping slumped over.

At least it was daytime.

His tennis racket sat next to the door. He’d meant to play tennis with Mokuba before Abu Dhabi, but their plans had fallen through. A week of tennis would be good. It’d certainly keep his fitness up and tennis was so calming, he could hit all his frustrations away.

Anything other than F1 sounded like heaven at the moment.

* * *

He chose a tennis club further out in the suburbs, hoping that no one would recognise him out there.

The receptionist didn’t bat an eyelid as he paid his non-members fee, so he took that was a good sign. Who expected the runner up in the F1 drivers championship to turn up at their tennis club anyway?

There weren’t many people around as Ryoma quickly changed and there were a few free courts. However, free courts were useless if you didn’t have anyone to play.

Still, Ryoma could feel the heaviness that had been holding him down beginning to float away.

He was walking to the ball machines when his attention was caught by one of the matches on court.

Or rather, by one of the players.

Ryoma knew enough about tennis to know the man was good. His style was very smooth and strong, Ryoma could watch him all day. It didn’t hurt that he was strikingly handsome. He found a wall to lean against and watched.

The man’s opponent was graceful and beautiful, but didn’t strike Ryoma in the same way.

They must have been keeping score in their heads because after a few amazing rallies they stopped and shook hands at the net.

Ryoma couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he did see the opponent glance at him and smile. He took that as a sign that he could go talk to them. 

“Hi,” he said as the two players walked off court.

“Did you enjoy the match?” the opponent asked, smiling serenely.

“It was good,” Ryoma replied, “I didn’t see the start though.”

“Well, Tezuka beat me again,” the other man said, indicating the handsome guy that Ryoma really wanted to talk to. He had a name at least.

“I’m Ryoma,” Ryoma said, hoping that not using his surname he wouldn’t be recognised. Being asked about his real sport whilst he wanted to play tennis would only make him feel worse.

“Fuji,” the other man introduced himself, “and this is Tezuka.”

Tezuka gave him a nod and returned to putting his racket away.

“I’m by myself,” Ryoma said, “I need an opponent.”

Fuji smiled, “I have to go, I’ve got a meeting, but Tezuka’ll give you a match I;m sure.”

Tezuka gave Fuji the kind of look Ryoma often received from Atoebe when he said something stupid to the press.

“I’m afraid I’m tired after that match,” Tezuka said, “I can’t give you a good game.”

“I’m jet lagged,” Ryoma shrugged, “we can hit the ball back and forth or something.”

“Fine,” Tezuka said He bit farewell to Fuji then joined Ryoma on court.

The rally started off steadily, it was really nice hitting his frustrations into the ball. Occasionally, they’d add in trickier shots, trying to catch the other out.

Even tired after his match, Tezuka was a much better player than Ryoma, who didn’t get to play anywhere near as often as he likes, What Ryoma did have was stamina and arms strength. You couldn’t drive an F1 car for long without them, let alone a full 50-odd lap race. It was clear stamina was a bit of a weakness for Tezuka.

Despite not playing a match, neither of them wanted to lose. Ryoma was sure Tezuka would be analyzing his style as much as Ryoma was analysing his.

 _I should ask him to dinner,_  Ryoma thought, barely catching a smash and sending it back.

They lasted half an hour before Tezuka’s stamina ran out and he had to call it quits.

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Ryoma said as they changed together. “In exchange for exhausting you.”

Tezuka frowned at him. “Do you normally ask strangers out to dinner?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Tezuka looked away and Ryoma left him to decide whether or not to take him up on his offer. He hoped he’d make it clear that he wouldn’t mind it if it stopped being dinner between two strangers and one between potential lovers… okay, he hadn’t, but Tezuka hadn’t reacted badly to his comment, so there was some hope.

“I’ll come,” Tezuka replied just as Ryoma was about to leave.

Ryoma smirked to himself.

* * *

Dinner was great- better than great- excellent even. Neither of them were big talkers, but the conversations they’d had had been worth it. Ryoma took Tezuka to a restaurant in the city, one that he knew Atobe frequented a lot. He wasn’t into restaurants, preferring clubs followed by takeaways, but Atobe, he presumed, had good taste. And he really wanted to impress Tezuka.

Tezuka, it turned out, was an author who’d had one novel published.

Ryoma hadn’t exactly told Tezuka what he did, he’d said that he was a driver for a race team and let it stay at that.

Tezuka’s only comment had been “that must be interesting,” and the conversation had stopped and moved onto tennis.

Ryoma had suffered through too many dinners with people who wouldn’t take the hint and let conversations end, like they were scared of the silence that would descend. 

Tezuka relished silence as much as Ryoma did.

“Do you live far?” Ryoma asked as he paid the bill and they left. Tezuka had only put up a mandatory protest before giving in and letting Ryoma pay. The way Ryoma saw it, he had more than enough money to feed the man who’d given him such a good time playing tennis with- even if he never saw him again.

“A fair way,” Tezuka replied.

“I’m just around the corner,” Ryoma said, “I can give you a lift back.”

“You’ve just paid for my dinner.”

“I know, but I figured I could save you a cab fare,” Ryoma shrugged.

“If you’re sure, I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.”

“I drive for a living,” Ryoma reminded him, “plus I have a really nice car.”

It was an exceptionally nice car. If you were going to spend as much money as a house on a car, Ryoma had figured, then you had to buy a Ferrari.

And it had to be red.

His was a 3.9-litre twin-turbocharged [V8](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FV8_engine&t=MzgxNGJjY2YxYTNiNDBjY2QwNTMyOTY5NWZmYjcwNDU4MWFiYzM3NCxPQ0psM21ZRQ%3D%3D&b=t%3Ap1aTZt2BYBuptVzioykecQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fsolosorca.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F154025720714%2Fbrood&m=1) 488 Spider, because as well as being red and a Ferrari, you _had_  to have a convertible.

Driving for Ferrari’s F1 team was his childhood dream. Like many drivers, winning the drivers championship in a Ferrari was the pinnacle. He wasn’t a romantic, but Ferrari were the exception.

Had he won this year’s championship. he’d been planning to treat himself to a Ferrari GTC4Lusso.

Tezuka’s eyes widened to the size of soup bows when Ryoma opened the garage door and the Ferrari slowly came into view.

“That is a nice car,” he said and Ryoma grinned.

“Get in.”

Tezuka sat in the car as if he were a visitor in someone’s home- prim and proper and trying not to touch anything. 

It was, in Ryoma’s opinion, adorable.

Tezuka only spoke to give directions, having to raise his voice to be heard over the growl of the engine. He started to relax as they got closer to their destination, spreading out in his seat.

“That is it,” Tezuka said, motioning to an apartment complex.

Ryoma pulled into a free parking space and switched off the engine. Next to him, Tezuka seemed to be trying to decide something.

“Would you like to come up?” Tezuka asked eventually.

“Yeah sure.”

His apartment was much smaller than Ryoma’s, just a main room with a  bedroom and bathroom attached. Despite its size, it held a surprising amount of bookcases, all almost overflowing. It was very tidy, but also looked lived in. Ryoma’s flat was clean and shiny and looked like it was a showhome- like no one actually lived there.

“It’s a bit small,” Tezuka said.

Ryoma shrugged, he’d spent most of his life in motorhomes and hotel rooms after all. 

“I don’t have coffee,” Tezuka continued, “just tea.”

“Tea’s fine.”

Kissing Tezuka would be nice, Ryoma thought as he took a seat on the sofa. But he didn’t want to scare him off.

They barely knew each other… but that helped somehow.

A cup of tea appeared in front of him and Ryoma took  it gratefully, glad to have something to keep his hands busy.

* * *

Tezuka couldn’t believe what he was doing! He’d invited a man he barely knew into his house- a man who had bought him dinner no less!

He’d read enough trashy romance to know what was expected of him now.

The thing was, he didn’t have enough money to have paid for his won dinner. That hurt his pride, but he’d eaten something that wasn’t instant ramen and if that meant he was expected to sleep with the quite frankly gorgeous man in front of him it wouldn’t be torture,

He was sure Ryoma must be _someone_  in the driving world -you didn’t own a car like that or live in the centre of Tokyo without being very rich. But he knew next to nothing about motorsport beyond the current F1 champion being from Japan- but everyone knew that much.

And then there was himself, a struggling author whose last two novels were rejected for being ‘too safe’. He could barely afford his rent and had only not moved back in with his parents out of a stubborn pride.

he sat next to Ryoma, his fingers clasping his tea.

“I’ve never done something like this,” Tezuka admitted.

“Done what?”

“Slept with a stranger.”

Ryoma’s eyes widened and he quietly put down his tea so as not to spill it. “We- what? -um,” he spluttered, trying to find the words. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting it.”

“You weren’t?”

“I’d like to,” Ryoma carried on, “but not tonight.”

“No?”

Ryoma cupped Tezuka’s cheek, his hand soft and warm. “I would like a kiss.”

Tezuka set his own tea down and cupped Ryoma’s face with both hand. He leant in and pressed their lips gently together.

They kept kissing all night long.

* * *

Ryoma had never dated anyone. He wasn’t out in public anyway and no one had ever captured his attention in that regard.

And, with travelling around the world and dedicating himself to driving, there just wasn’t time. If someone wanted to date him, they’d have to make more sacrifices than Ryoma was willing to make. He’d watched the relationships of so many of his friends in the paddock break down due to the amount of weekends away and he just he couldn’t be bothered with it himself.

He awoke next to Tezuka. They’d stayed up all night talking -okay, not talking- but by the time they’d finished it was last and Tezuka had refused to let Ryoma drive home. So they’d shared Tezuka’s bed.

He’d never shared a bed with someone who didn’t kick him during the night (Mokuba) or drool on his shoulder (Kin-chan). Tezuka had held him close and Ryoma had slept deeply.

He felt content as he lay there, absolved of all his problems. He could stay here forever.

Next to him, Tezuka stirred and Ryoma smiled as the man’s brow creased before his eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning,” Tezuka sighed, pulling Ryoma close to kiss him.

“Mornin’,” Ryoma said, unable to keep the smile from is lips.

“Can I read your book?” Ryoma asked sometime later as Tezuka was making them breakfast.

“I suppose,” Tezuka replied. “Could I watch one of your races?”

Ryoma wished his body wouldn’t freeze up the way it did. He hoped Tezuka didn’t notice. “I’ll find a copy of one.” 

 _One where I win_ , he thought. _That race in Spa when I went from tenth to first._

“I have to meet my editor this morning,” Tezuka said. “Fuji, you met him yesterday.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a spare key by the door,” Tezuka said, “if you wish to go out whilst I’m away.”

* * *

When Tezuka returned, there was a cat sat on his sofa. It was such a surprise that he completely forgot about his depressing meeting.

“That’s Karupin,” Ryoma said when Tezuka found him in the bedroom, lounging on the futon and reading Tezuka’s first -and only- published book.

“I rescued him,” Ryoma continued. “It was a very dangerous and terrifying mission.”

“Why?” Tezuka asked, utterly confused.

“The woman who looks after him whilst I’m away has a crush on me,” Ryoma replied, “she’s scary about it, I almost lost my life.”

“You’re a better story teller than me,” Tezuka said, returning to the kitchen to make tea.

“You’re not bad!” Ryoma called after him.

“Fuji thinks otherwise,” Tezuka said before he could stop himself.

Ryoma’s head appeared at the door. “What did he say?”

“That my stories are not adventurous enough,” Tezuka replied, glaring at the newspaper he’d bought on the way home. “That I have a safe zone and I won’t leave it.”

“Hmmm… sound like a problem,” Ryoma said, sauntering over to the counter.

“He suggested that I get out of my comfort zone. ‘Live a little’ were his words, I believe,” he looked at Ryoma who was staring at the newspaper, transfixed with horror. “Are you okay.”

Ryoma snapped out of it. “I’m fine,” he muttered, stalking off to pick up his sleeping cat.

Tezuka glanced down. The headline read:

 

> Kaiba moves to Ferrari

* * *

Mokuba had the Ferrari drive! He had the World Championship and the Ferrari seat! Everything Ryoma had ever wanted!

He couldn’t be team mates with him, Ferrari had a main driver and a supporting driver and there was no way either of them could be the support! They’d been team mates once before, back in Formula 3, and almost killed each other. Doing it again and it might actually happen.

They were able to be close friends because they didn’t work together!

Until Mokuba left Ferrari there would be no room for Ryoma and that would have a very _very_  long time.

 _I hate him!_  Ryoma though bitterly, burying his face in Karupin’s fur. Karupin, unhappy with being awoken so suddenly, struggled out of Ryoma’s arms, leaving him alone on the sofa, staring at his feet.

The sofa dipped and a steady hand placed itself on his back.

Ryoma heaved a heavy sigh and leant over to press his head against Tezuka’s chest. “What do you do when you feel like shit?”

“I go walking,” Tezuka replied, “in the mountains.”

“Let’s do something stupid,” Ryoma said. “Let’s go away together!”

Tezuka chuckled. “I think we’re already doing something stupid. We barely know each other.”

“I know I like you.”

Tezuka cleared his throat, embarrassed. “I’m afraid I can’t afford to go away.”

“I can,” Ryoma said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.”

“But if it goes wrong…”

“Then we never have to see each other again,” Ryoma shrugged, “as you said, we don’t know each other.”

His hand found Tezuka’s thigh and he slid it down to his knee. “It could go right.”

Tezuka caught his chin and pulled it around. “It could go right here.” He kissed him.

* * *

Tezuka wanted to go camping- In December.

Ryoma had put his foot down, he hated being cold and a tent seemed like hell on earth. He knew Tezuka would try and repay every yen he owned Ryoma. It was something Ryoma admired, even if he thought it was stupid.

The Ferrari hadn’t liked the gravel track up to the cabin (and Ryoma regretted not buying the GTC4Lusso) or the snow, but the drive up through the mountain roads had set his heart racing -all the sweeping roads an tunnels that amplified how _good_  his car sounded as he went up through the gears. Driving had infected him and there was no cure.

Tezuka woke early every morning and spent at least two hours writing before Ryoma managed to stagger out of bed. Then, they’d eat breakfast together and go trekking in the snow if the weather was good.

“Do you like writing?” Ryoma asked as they walked through the woods, the snow glistening on the branches.

Tezuka was silent for a while before replying, “I do.”

“What was the pause for?”  
“I needed to consider the question,” Tezuka said. “It’s something I’ve been deliberating over for quite some time.”

“You’ve thought about quitting?”

“I have.”

Ryoma nodded. In his less rational moments he had too. Throw it all in and find another team in another sport. Or leave motorsport entirely and find a ‘normal’ job.

But motorsport owned him, body and soul. The idea of not spending season after season jetting around the world and racing cars was like torture. He had to do it, his bloody and bones cried for speed.

“And you carry on?”

“I can’t improve if I quit,” Tezuka said. “I can’t see how far I can go.”

“Hmmm,” Ryoma hummed. That was a nice turn of phrase.

They spent their evenings on the sofa, Ryoma cuddling Karupin to stop him climbing onto Tezuka’s laptop. Karupin had taken quite a shine to Tezuka, which Ryoma took as a good sign, although he was jealous in how much time his cat spent running around Tezuka and trying to cuddle with him. If something else, he’d now have a safer home for his cat whilst he was at fly-away races.

The owners of the cabin had said that as long as they paid they could stay as long as they wanted. Neither of them mentioned leaving until Christmas was approaching.

“We can’t hide here forever,” Tezuka said one evening.

“We can,” Ryoma replied, his head resting on Tezuka’s shoulder. “We haven’t done enough stupid things yet.”

“This is a beautiful dream, Ryoma,” Tezuka said, “but we both have lives to get back to.”

“We can stay together though.”

“Of course. Although living in our own houses for a while might be a good idea.”

“Boring,” Ryoma huffed. “You can live with me, I have enough room for all your books.”

“Maybe one day,” Tezuka said, trying to placate him.

“I’ll drag you into stupid things,” Ryoma continued, “and you’ll write a bestseller.”

“And you will stop running away from your job?” Tezuka asked and Ryoma winced.

“Yeah.” He hadn’t looked at his phone since he’d met Tezuka.

* * *

He was surprised how many messages he’d received from Bane-san, his chief mechanic and one of his ‘F1 dads’. He was surprised he could send text messages in the first place. They started off with the standard jokey ways of asking if he was okay (’you haven’t gotten lost have you? haha’) then moved onto angry ‘where the hell are you?’ texts that included actual emoji.

He’d sent at least three a day. Ryoma was impressed.

He almost replied to them, but showing up at the factory would be more fun.

When he did, everyone and their dog lined up to yell at him for disappearing. Atobe had almost hit him and then chewed him out for over an hour, threatening to sack him at least four times before welcoming him back.

Bane-san and Davide (Ryoma’s other ‘F1 dad’ and one of the mechanics on his car) on the other hand had only yelled at him for five minutes before hugging him and parading him around like some kind of soldier returning from the war.

Kin-chan had just cried and then showed him all the pictures of his new girlfriend, which Ryoma found even more annoying.

The car for next season was shaping up to be a good one. Ryoma only got to see parts of it and pictures of it’s new colour scheme (purple with roses), a colour scheme that stripped the poor girl of all her coolness.He couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel and put her through her paces.

No one mentioned the past year,it was all positivity, focusing on the next championships rather than dwelling on the past. The weeks he’d spent with Tezuka had helped so much, he’d managed to come to terms with all that had happened.

As for Tezuka… They’d seen each other a lot since coming back from the mountains. Ryoma still hadn’t told him where he races and felt guilty for doing so. He’d kept back from sleeping with him until he knew. He liked Tezuka too much to ruin it over lying about his job.

But, it was now February and it was time to change that.

“Do you want to come on another holiday with me?” Ryoma asked as soon as Tezuka picked up the phone.

“Where to this time?” Tezuka asked, sounding amused.

“Spain,” Ryoma replied. “I've got testing so there’ll be lots of time for you to sit around and write.”

Tezuka took a moment before answering. “I’ll come.”

“Good because I’ve already bought your plane tickets. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” he said, laughing as he hung up.

This season was going to be fun!


End file.
